Home at Last
by TheClassicalGeek
Summary: Jonas awakens in Elsewhere, but is Elsewhere really what Jonas imagined it to be? An epilogue for The Giver. I own nothing.


**A/N: We recently read The Giver in reading, and had to write an epilogue as part of our grade. Everyone kept saying how good this was, so I decided to post it. Review if ya want(it's not like me telling you to would change your mind, so I won't) and enjoy! -Fic**

Home at Last

"Jonas." A voice calls.

My eyes snap open and I sit up startled. I whip my head around searching for the mysterious, yet oddly familiar voice. It is now that I notice my surroundings.

I am no longer on the sled on the hill. Gabe is no longer in my arms, nor anywhere around me. I am in a room, very plain and simple. Four white walls, no furniture, a grey floor, and a grey door on the wall farthest from me. Considering everything that I have done to go against the Community, I should fear this place.

The thing is though, I don't. There is nothing present in the room to give me any impression as to what it is like on the other side of that door, yet I find myself being comforted by it, drawn to it.

I stand, and slowly walk towards the door. My muscles ache, and it feels as if I have just awaken from a long, deep sleep. I grab the metallic knob, then pause. What if what is behind the door, isn't the Community, but Elsewhere? What if I'm _in_ Elsewhere? What if I'm in Elsewhere. . .

I take a long, deep breath, and close my eyes. This is it. I twist the knob and throw open the door, my eyes once again snapping open. I gasp as the sudden bright light blinds me for a moment.

When my eyes adjust, I am startled by the sudden change in scenery. The door I had just passed through is gone, replaced by a spacious, grassy field. To my right, there is a large, sparkling lake, to my left, an apple orchard. All of which are in beautiful, full, vibrant color. The sun is shining bright above, and birds off in the orchard are singing. Someone else is singing, too.

I lower my gaze from the sky, and for the first time notice an old farmhouse. Not old as in rickety, or falling apart, old as in comforting, homey. The house stands two stories tall, with what appears to be an attic above. There is a basement, too. I don't need to see it right now to know, I can remember it. I can remember it as if I have lived my whole life in that house. For all I know, I could have.

"Jonas!" the voice calls again, only now, it seems closer, friendlier, more recognizable than before.

"Giver?" I ask back.

"Over here," he says, as I notice the two figures sitting in the shade on a porch swing. "Come, join us."

I begin walking at first, but then slowly pick up speed. I run, holding my arms out in the air, letting my skin be warmed by the actual Sun, instead of just a memory. Well, it is a memory, but one of my own, one I can forever keep.

After pausing for a moment at the base of the steps to catch my breath, I walk up them and approach the swing. On the left sits the Giver, looking younger and less burdened than before. On the right, sits a young girl, and in her arms is a sleeping Gabriel.

_Rosemary._ My mind says when I look at the girl. _Sister. Rosemary, sister. Gabe, brother._

I look back to the Giver to ask where we are, when a new sensation envelopes me. Love. For the first time, I am experiencing the true love within a true family.

_Giver, father._

I smile and take a seat on the swing, well aware that this is where I am going to spend the rest of my life.

_Meanwhile. . ._

In a hospital in Elsewhere, there is a young boy. His age is unknown, perhaps twelve or thirteen. No one in the area recognizes him. He came in with a child of the approximate age of two. The child was dead, the boy hardly alive.

The couple responsible for bringing the pair in had an interesting story to tell. They claimed to have been driving along on their way home from a Christmas service, when they found a bike in the middle of the road right before a steep hill. Only after climbing the hill, and beginning to descend did the couple spot the owner of the abandoned bike, lying motionless at the bottom of the hill on a sled.

The local doctors don't believe that the boy will live longer than perhaps a day or two. Local police have stopped investigating. There was obviously no one left to love the boy, but then again, some things you just never can know.


End file.
